Hold On
by Southern Trip
Summary: My take on Mikey's death. Please give it a shot, I'm pretty proud. Anyways, rated for mild cursing. Tell me if you like it!


A/N: Okay, I know it's been forever since I posted, and if anyone cares, I'm sorry. Got a new computer though, so I'll be posting regularly. (I hope) I hope you enjoy this. I loved the episode with Mikey's wake, but I still thought that they could've dealt more with Bosco's mindset. Here's my take on it. Let me know if you enjoy it!

Also, please forgive any spelling mistakes. This program doesn't have a check. (Can you believe it?)

I shouldn't be here. This isn't right. Maurice Boscorelli reached up with a trembling hand and straightened the knot of his navy blue tie. His reflection stared back at him with an unwavering grey gaze, made even more disparaging by the dark bags that hung under his eyes. While the thought of losing his brother had occurred to him several times since Mikey had gotten involved with drugs and the associated culture, Bosco had never really _believed _he would be standing in the bathroom of his apartment, getting ready to pick his ma up and head over to the funeral home for Mikey's wake. He had tried countless times to scare his younger brother straight with promises of what was sure to come if he didn't smarten up, but it wasn't enough. It had never been enough. Bosco dropped his hands to his sides and snorted. Damn story of his life.

Behind him, in the mess that had become his bedroom, the cordless phone started to ring. If it had been any other day, he would've spent the time to search under the clothes and dirty plates and bed sheets for it. But as he stood now he could find neither the strength, nor the determination to do anything other than glance back through the doorway. I should've gotten a haircut, he thought to himself, turning back to face the mirror. He couldn't ever remember having hair this long, long enough to curl at the back of his neck. But his ma was expecting him in less than forty minutes, not enough time to drive around and find a barber shop. He would go later in the week, when things had slowed down and he could trust himself to leave his mother for half an hour. From the kitchen, through the hallway and into the bathroom in which he stood, Bosco heard the answering machine tape winding to record the message. Faith's voice soon reached his ears, telling him she was there if he needed her, and she was thinking of him. It was strange, the relationship between him and his partner. Some days they could hardly stand to be around each other. Most days they couldn't go through a shift without an argument of some kind. But the second something bad happened, the second one even considered that the other needed help, everything shifted. They became closer than most married couples, doing nearly everything in their power to ease the pain. At the thought of the support that lay behind him, a smile threatened to lift the corners of his lips. He knew as much as Faith did that he would never accept it, but knowing it was there nonetheless took some of the edge off.

He smoothed down his hair one final time before leaving the bathroom. It was far to early to head over to his ma's, but he couldn't bear the thought of hanging around that empty apartment for another thirty five minutes. Although he wasn't thirsty, he headed into the kitchen to fix himself a cup of coffee. His sleep had been plagued with varying nightmares since Mikey's body had been identified, and he knew he was going to need help to get through the next couple of hours. If if failed in that, then at least he had killed some time. He stared gathering the instant coffee supplies, placing in whatever free counter space he could find. His silent work was interupted, though, by a quiet but insistent knock at his front door. He considered for a moment ignoring it, pretending he wasn't home. But then his sense of reason and responsibility won out. It could've been any number of people at his door, possibly someone with more information about his brother's death. He left the can of instant coffee out on the counter, and headed to the door. After undoing the latch and switching the lock, he swung the door open. Both eyebrows raised in surprise, and his hand unconsciously tightened on the doorknob.

"Emily. What are you doing here?"

The blond haired teen looked shy, guilty almost, standing on his doorstep. She was dressed for the fall weather outside, a thin knitted touque on her head, a lined jean jacket and beige corduroy pants. She clutched what seemed to be an envelope in her mittened hands. "Hi, Bosco. Um, can I come in?"

"Uh, yeah,"he said, distractedly. He opened the door wide to let her in, then peered down the hallway behind her. "Is your mom here too?"

"No, she, um, doesn't know I'm here." She stood uncomfortably in the hallway, wrinkling her nose at the mess that surrounded her, but otherwise saying nothing. He noticed her discomfort, and brushed past her, heading back to the kitchen. "I was just making some coffee. You want some?"

Despite herself, Emily found a smile creeping onto her face. Although at times she hated him with a passion that burned her stomach for the troubles he had caused her family, he still was Bosco. Practically the only adult Emily knew who didn't treat her like she was still six. It never even ocurred to him that she might be too young for the caffienated drink. She followed him into the kitchen, and was met by a similar environment. Stacks of dirty dishes in the sink, garbage overflowing the can and spilling onto the floor. More beer bottles than she could count on both hands. Bosco faced away from her, and was busy preparing the coffee.

"Uh, no thanks. I can't stay."

He turned around then to look at her, as though it had suddenly occurred to him how strange and out of the ordinary it was for her to come visit him alone. The thought that something had happened to Faith, or Fred or Charlie had never entered his mind, given her appearance. But now that he thought about it, his chest tightened

painfully with fear. He wasn't sure he could handle more bad news right then. "Is everything alright, Em?"

Her brow knitted together, as though she was considering the question. "Yeah, it's okay. I just..." She paused, staring down into her hands, and the envelope that she still held there. "I heard about your brother. And I wanted to say I'm sorry. Charlie is too, but he couldn't come. My dad doesn't even know I'm here."

Her kindness and thoughtfulness brought sudden and surprising tears to his eyes. He had not seen Emily, let alone spoken to her, in quite sometime, and here she was, offering her condolensces. He looked away for several heartbeats, grinding his teeth and fighting to keep his emotions in check. After a moment, he looked back up at her and smiled sadly. His voice wavered only slightly when he said, "thanks, kiddo. I appreciate that."

She nodded, more to herself than him, and her attention turned back to the envelope. "I didn't know him, but I can't even imagine what losing Charlie would be like..." Her words seemed to fail her for a moment, and the only sound in the kitchen was that of their breathing, and the coffee percolating on the counter behind Bosco. Bosco didn't say anything, he didn't trust his voice. Instead he watched Emily as she fiddled with the envelope, and shuffled her feet nervously on the tile floor.

"Are you sure you're okay?"he asked finally, his concern for her overriding the whirlwind of emotions he was feeling at the thought of Mikey.

She looked back up at him with a slight smile, and nodded. "Yeah, I will be. Um, me and Charlie are going away with dad for a little while. I won't get to see mom, so I was wondering if you could give this to her later? Tell her we love her?"

Again, Bosco's eyebrows raised almost to disappear beneath his hairline. Emily crossed the floor in two quick strides, and held her hand out, the paper still held tightly in her hand. He nodded.

"Sure, kid. I can do that. No prob."

Her smile widened a fraction, and she nodded her thanks. "I have to go. Dad'll be wondering..."

She turned to leave, but paused midstride, as if contemplating whether or not to say something else. Bosco simply watched her, curiosity mixed with a little concern written out over his face. She whirled around suddenly, rushing back to him and throwing her arms around his waist. Bosco was momentarily startled into inaction, but his arms soon found their way around her upper body. He pressed his lips against the top of her head, and hugged her tightly to him.

"I miss you, Uncle B,"she murmured, her face pressed against his chest, before abruptly letting go and hurrying out of the apartment. Bosco remained frozen several minutes after she had gone. He hadn't heard either of the Yokas kids call him Uncle B since...He couldn't even remember the last time he had heard it. It brought a certain reality back to the situation he found himself in, making things seem a little more normal than they had as of yet. The smell of the brewing coffee behind him brought him back to his kitchen, and he tucked the envelope into the pocket of his jacket. As he poured himself a mug full, all thoughts that weren't of his brother were pushed from his mind. He would have to go pick up his ma soon, and then it was all going to start...


End file.
